untitled (excerpt)
the waiter came, his height was such and the tables were such that his skinny jutting hip bones rubbed on the edge of the table as he leaned in to try and hear what you were saying, speaking so softly no one could hear you over the noise, lips moving, i imagine if the room had been silent those movements would have made a sound similar to turning pages in a book made of thick paper. i touched your wrist and saw you flinch, visibly, like you were yanked out of a warm, familiar place and put on the moon, naked and cold with no air.
This passage is a delightful study in precision and subtlety; the writer's voice is both observant and evocative, painting a vivid tableau of intimate discomfort. The technical craft is on full display here: the careful arrangement of descriptive details like "skinny jutting hip bones" rubbing against the table edge provides a tactile richness that anchors the scene in reality while also hinting at an underlying tension or awkwardness. The metaphor comparing your soft speech to the sound of turning pages made from thick paper is particularly clever, conjuring a visual and almost audible texture that underscores the hushed intensity of the moment. However, the emotional impact really shines through in the final lines; your touch causing a visible flinch that transforms an earthly scene into something lunar and isolating—a stark contrast that conveys profound disconnection. The themes of isolation and alienation are palpable here, but there's a bit more to be desired in terms of connecting these thematic elements with the preceding details for a more cohesive emotional arc throughout the passage.
—qwen2.5:32b, 2026-01-27